How Voldemort became so evil
by scarlet fever1
Summary: Just a little background on the Dark Lord, I have only put up some of the first Chapter, but there's quite a bit, and I will carry it on!! Reviews are welcome.


Tom Riddle, a tall 11-year-old boy, greeted the postman with his usual nervous smile. The postman was an old man in his late fifties. He looked quite a stern, large man, but he always wore a smile on his face. He smiled and beamed down at Tom.

"Now then Tom, What have I brought you today?" said the postman, questioning Tom. A silent Tom shrugged, he didn't like the postman, and he scared him, even though the postman was always nice to him. Tom was a very shy, quiet and reserved boy.

The postman kept his happy grin on his face as he stared at Tom. Finally the postman gave in and searched in his great, heavy, blue bag. Tom could see great tears in the fabric, as though it had been used a million years before.

"Here you are then Tom," said the postman handing him the letters.

"Thank you" came a timid reply as Tom headed back home, or at least what he called home, for Tom lived with a great number of children in an orphanage.

Tom thought of himself as an average 11-year-old boy. He was abandoned when he was a young baby, but he didn't like to think about it, as it reminded him of being alone, and being alone scared Tom, more than anything else did in the world. Tom was a thin, scrawny child, but no children would ever pick on him, then again no children would ever play with Tom, or speak to him unless they had too. As Tom wondered back he decided to flick through the mail to keep him occupied. Most were big, brown envelopes, and there were a few small envelopes for the children, but the children's mail was always inspected first. As Tom was flicking one large envelope caught his eye. It was thick, heavy parchment and when Tom examined it further, he saw that on the front was some writing in an emerald, green ink. As he read it, to his surprise he found the latter was addressed to him. He stopped and read the address over;

Tom Marvalo Riddle

Dormitory A 3

Sivingly Orphanage

London

Now Tom was not a naughty child, but the letter was addressed to him, and before he had time for his conscience to kick in he stuffed the letter into his pocket. He ran back to the orphanage without stopping he was already late and he was excited about his letter. 

When Tom was in the orphanage a smell of cabbage soup and sick hit him. It wasn't that the orphanage was dirty, just that it never got much funding and so had to do the best it could. He trotted to Miss Trubelle's office to give her the mail. He came to the large, oak door of her office and gently tapped on the door.

"Come in" she boomed

Tom opened the great door with some difficulty then scuttled in, and gave her the mail. 

"About time young man" she said sternly "I thought you'd got lost"

Tome stayed silent, and looked at the floor, he had seen what happen to children who answered back. They came out of Miss Trubelle's office with marks on their legs. The cause of the marks was 'The Stick'. Tom never liked the bright, red lines on the other children's legs. Just looking at them made his eyes water. After a couple of week the bright, lines, would turn to dark marks for everyone to see.

"Well you had best run off to your lesson Tom or you'll be late . . . and you know what happens to late comers" said Miss Trubelle suspiciously. 

'Yes Miss" he squeaked before he turned and walked out of the office. When he was out, he slowly closed the door, and began walking, slowly, to his lesson. It wasn't really a proper lesson like he would have in school. He was taught Basic English, basic Maths, some science and history. Although the children were aged 5 – 13, most children could write and speak fluent French. This was due to their teacher Miss Boubard. She had come over from Lyon as an au pair, but soon found herself teaching. She was the nicest person Tom had ever met. She was in her late twenties, tall and very slim. She always wore her soft, blonde hair in a neat French knot and wore long flowing dresses. Tom thought she smelt nice too, and loved it when she hugged him, as he would have the sweet smell of honey and strawberries engulf him. 

Tom was day dreaming and walked at a snails pace. He turned down another plain, white corridor. The corridors were not very wide, just about two small children could walk shoulder to shoulder. He finally arrived at the classroom. It was one of the largest rooms in the entire orphanage, so most children would be found here. The room was square shaped, with brown carpet tiles. The walls were sterile white, apart from a few pencil marks here and there. There were a number of tables scattered about the room, but a large area of space, where the children would listen to stories and magic and witchcraft, dominated the room. (Miss Boubard was a great fan) This space was unlike the rest of the plain drab room. There were huge pillows and cushions scattered all around. Facing the pillows was a huge chair, set back against the wall. This was Miss Bourbard's chair and it was made of oak, with leather coverings. Tom loved the chair and wished he had one like it. 

Suddenly Tom jerked awake from his daydream, as he walked into the classroom all the children were sat at tables with pencils and paper. He was late, he walked too slowly and he was late. He stood at the door hoping the floor would open up and swallow him. He was late and nothing could be worse. He remained at the door not wanting to disturb the lesson. As he glanced at the blackboard, he saw there were some French words with their meanings.

Vol – flightDe – ofMort – Death

Miss Boubard was explaining to the class about hoards of men and women who went witch-hunting. They were known in France as 'Le Voldemort' 'The Flight of Death'

Miss Boubard motioned Tom to sit down as she continued her lesson. The other children hadn't noticed Tom at the door, so they all stared at him as he went to sit down. Tom kept his head down and when he sat down ha looked straight at the blackboard never letting his gaze wander.

"The 'oards would take anyone suspicious, et burn them at the stake. It was a brutal way for mortals to die, but I am sure the flames would not 'ave affected a real witch' Miss Boubard said this last sentence with a faint hint of pride. "Now I want you all to make notes, while I 'ave a word with Tom"

Tom was now even more nervous because Miss Boubard before had never shouted him at. Miss Boubard led Tom to the story corner, where they both sat on two big, blue pillows. Tom's face was as white as a sheet at this point and he was beginning to feel sick.

"There is no need to look so nervous my love. I was just going to say you can 'ave some quiet time while the class finish their work" she smiled and gave him a comforting hug. Her smell hit him like a wave and he felt his nervousness and sickness disappear like magic. After a minute she let go of Tom, got up and walked over to her desk where she sat down and began to write. Tom sat and stared at her for a while he always thought that Miss Boubard always looked out for him and that she was always especially nice to him. Amidst his thoughts she looked up at him, and smiled, before returning to her work. Tom now sat in silence wondering what to do in his 'quiet time'. Suddenly he remembered his letter. He felt it in his pocket; not wanting anyone else to see it, he turned his back to the class and began to study the envelope. 

Tom had only ever received one other letter before, but Miss Trubelle had inspected it first of course, before it was given to him. This upset Tom slightly as it was his letter and it was meant for him, no one else, but him. He never dared say anything of course. The letter in question was from his mother. She had written it before she had given birth to Tom, before she had died. Tom at the time was too young to read, but would often sit and stare at it every night and examine his mother's small, neat handwriting. Gradually he learnt what the words meant, but still, there were things in the letter that did not make sense. Sometimes Tom would ask Miss Boubard to read the letter imaging her voice to be that of his mother. 

The letter read:

__

My Dearest Tom

Words cannot express my sorrow for leaving you, but I'm afraid that not even I could escape the hands of death. Your father never understood me, but I suppose you could not blame him, he was a muggle. He would not accept me, and that hurt. I suppose he abandoned you, well he must have or you would not have received this letter. You are probably wondering what I mean, but I am afraid I cannot tell you who I am in a letter. Though you will never know me, I want you to know I will always be watching you and you will always be safe. Remember me always Tom, never, forget me. Although I had to leave you my love for you will never leave me. Carry that in your heart always. You will be great someday, you may not know it yet but it is in your blood, you will be great.

Yours lovingly

Mother.

'Muggle' now admittedly neither Tom, nor Miss Boubard knew this word, but Tom knew that it was his father. And 'who I really am puzzled Tom even more. He kept thinking of his mother as a thief, or a murderer, or even as a freak, but he loved her letter and thought of her as though she were Miss Boubard.

Now Tom flipped over the new letter in his hands. The envelope was sealed with wax, but there was a picture imprinted in the wax. It was a crest; Tom remembered learning about then, which bore four animals; A lion, A badger, A Raven and A serpent. Tom's full attention was now focused on the letter. His hand trembled slightly as his long fingers gingerly broke the seal and opened the envelope. A musty smell crawled up his nostrils like a ghost. Inside were pieces of parchment and what looked like a ticket. He unfolded the first piece of parchment and his hungry eyes began to read with deep interest.

__

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Again I haven't had time to finish chapter one I am a busy girl you know, well ok, I do have a streak of laziness also, so I will update again soon. Bye now! Oh and Happy New Year!


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